


The Russian Way

by LokiDoki221



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Drabble, Ficlet, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Platonic Relationships, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, relationship if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiDoki221/pseuds/LokiDoki221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Napoleon's hurt Illya's on hand to help him out, even if he isn't the gentlest of souls...</p><p>~</p><p>Just a really tiny little Man from U.N.C.L.E. ficlet focusing on Illya and Napoleon. It could be read with them as friends or lovers, it's really up to you, dear reader. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Russian Way

Napoleon winces as Illya cleans his cuts with antiseptic lotion. The deepest one is on his thigh, there's no doubt it's going to be an impressive scar. Along with that gash he's sporting a black eye, a split lip, three cracked ribs, two broken fingers and near countless bruises and scratches. He's skinned both his knees, and can't help feeling like a schoolboy again. He yelps as Illya begins to scrub at his thigh with the lotion.

'Damn it, Peril, do you have to do that?'

Illya pauses, looks up to meet the American's eye. 'If you like your leg, then yes, I have to.' And with that, he continues.

He says it so matter-of-factly Napoleon is left temporarily speechless. Illya's been playing nursemaid since the mission ended three days ago. Napoleon had been busy breaking into the vault of a rather-too-powerful mining executive when things had begun to go wrong: a section of their pre-mission intel had been false, and when Napoleon triggered an unknown tripwire in the vault all hell had broken loose. Gaby and Illya, undercover in front, had their cover blown almost the second the alarm went off. Illya had left Gaby to deal with the targets in front whilst he made his way to the vault. When he got there, Napoleon was fighting a losing battle against six armed and armoured guards and their dogs, and it sounded like more were coming. With Illya's entrance the fight suddenly became very one-sided, and the second wave of approaching guards turned and ran before either Illya or Napoleon had half a chance to get their hands on them. In the meantime, Gaby had made it into the vault and taken the intel they needed. It all ended rather neatly really, and certainly better than Napoleon had anticipated when the dog had sunk its teeth into his thigh. That said, Waverly had been none too impressed by the final body count.

He winces again at the sting of the antiseptic.

'Stop your whining,' Illya mutters.

'I am _not_ whining!'

'I can hear you. I hear you making these noises. They are whining noises.'

'They are _pain_ noises,' he protests, squirming a little in his chair as Illya's vicious cleaning continues.

'Sometimes I wonder I don't shoot you myself.'

Napoleon spreads his arms innocently. 'What's stopping you?'

'The thought of all the whining noises you'd make if I did.' He places a fresh dressing over the wound, sets it in place with a tightly-wrapped bandage, and stands back to survey his work. Satisfied, he looks up. 'You want coffee?'


End file.
